


What Lurks Beneath

by stultiloquent



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Birds of Prey (Comic), DCU (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Batfamily Dynamics (DCU), Body Horror, Comic: Nightwing: Brothers in Blood, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Horror, Tentacles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27246133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stultiloquent/pseuds/stultiloquent
Summary: "Jay?" He called out, taking a few uncertain steps towards the skylight and roof exit hatch."Over here, Dickie." It came from behind the stairway exit. He sounded upset.Alarmed, Dick picked up his pace, rounding the corner of the exit hatch in four, quick steps.He considered that Jason might be in trouble. Injured, at best; targeted and on the run from the League of Assassins, at worst. What he saw wasn't even remotely within that ballpark.--A spooky little what-if set after the Brothers in Blood storyline. Written for Day 7 of Batfam Halloween Week 2020: Family Secrets!
Relationships: Barbara Gordon/Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon, Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26
Collections: Batfam Halloween Week





	What Lurks Beneath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eazlby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eazlby/gifts).



> God I've been so excited to share this with you all!! This idea came about during one of my and eazlby's many conversations about Jason's canonical tentacles, and this little what-if scenario just wouldn't leave me alone. And though this fic wasn't the creative outcome we planned for originally, I still hope you all will enjoy this little tale for the spooky season.
> 
> I've also included a few easter eggs inside, tell me if you spot them!

On Wednesday, Dick received a text message from an unknown number:

(609) 628-6787  
  
Hey Dickie. Just got back in town, got an update for you on my condition. Think you're gonna wanna see this. Come meet me at 10PM this Saturday. 40° 43' 23.664'' N 73° 58' 58.152'' W. Need your help. - J  
  


It wasn't the first time Jason had reached out to him on a burner phone requesting backup for an investigation without prior notice, so Dick had agreed, shot a quick confirmation text back, and put the strange request to the back of his mind.

Then, Saturday arrived, and instead of finishing his usual patrol route, Nightwing detoured to the coordinates Jason sent over. A quick Google search beforehand told him the building housed a closed down bar, so, figuring that Jason wasn't asking him to do some B&E, he swung onto the rooftop instead. From this height, he could see the hands on the Clock Tower across the city as the clock struck 10:00, its chimes carrying over faintly too, and Dick allowed himself a small smile. Tonight was Barbara's day-off, and Dick could just imagine Barbara reclining in her chair, snacking on some of the cookies Tim brought over last time as she mainlined that BuzzFeed mystery show on their shared Netflix account.

Someday... There would be time for them to spend the night together out of uniforms.

Dick let out a breath, and turned his attention back towards the rooftop. 

He stepped away from the edge of the building, scanning the roof for the signature red colours of Red Hood's costume, but there was nothing. The silhouettes of the building's ventilation units, the skylight, the roof exit hatch, all stood still and silent. It was as empty as the rest of the vacant building. Dick frowned. He had never known Jason to be late. 

"Jay?" He called out, taking a few uncertain steps towards the skylight and roof exit hatch.

"Over here, Dickie." It came from behind the stairway exit. He sounded upset.

Alarmed, Dick picked up his pace, rounding the corner of the exit hatch in four, quick steps.

He considered that Jason might be in trouble. Injured, at best; targeted and on the run from the League of Assassins, at worst. What he saw wasn't even remotely within that ballpark.

Sitting in the shadows was Jason alright, though Dick wasn't sure if "sitting" was the right word. He was sprawled on the ground, legs akimbo, the top of his red helmet only coming up to waist-height. The beige of his leather jacket and the red bat crest on his chest were unmistakable, but the shape of him was... odd, like he was hiding an extra mass beneath the jacket. There's movement there, rippling the surface of the jacket at random intervals. 

"Jason?"

As he spoke, the shapes beneath Jason's jacket revealed themselves, poking out from beneath the hem in the form of a few curious tentacles. They wriggled listlessly, a far cry from the terrifying image they painted when Jason wielded them gleefully against his opponents.

Jason swallowed, and it was the helpless look in his eyes that made Dick stay and listen. "I dunno why or how, but... five days ago I woke up looking like... this. Again." Jason looked away, red staining his cheeks in embarrassment. "The tentacles... they're back." 

"Oh, Jason," Dick sighed. This was going to be a problem on multiple fronts. At least Jason reached out first, and seemed cooperative so far. There was no telling how the rest of the family would react though. Dick never told them about his run-in with Jason and the tentacle creature years ago. 

But Jason needed his help _now_. Whatever happened next, Dick would have to man up and do damage control. He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. "We gotta go back to the Cave. All the analysis equipment's there. You know that, right?"

"Yeah..." Jason looked reluctant, but complied with Dick all the same. He must really be desperate if he was willing to go back to the Manor without putting up a fight. But of course he was - Dick mentally kicked himself - these extra appendages were nothing but a reminder of the horrific incident he had been through. Jason played it off as nothing back then, but Dick knew. He should've reached out and made sure Jason was okay. 

Dick's heart ached for his little brother. He said nothing as he drove them both back to the Manor. He didn't know what he could offer in comfort.

The tense silence followed them as they pulled into the Cave's garage. Dick killed the engine, searching for the right words as he looked over at Jason, but the younger man was already stepping out of the vehicle. He must want this to be over as quickly as possible. Like ripping off a band-aid, the quicker it was the less painful it would be.

Yeah, right.

Dick gave himself another second to get ready for the inevitable shouting match to come, then stepped out of the car. Bruce was already sitting in front of the Batcomputer, half-dressed in his Batsuit and filing his patrol reports for the week. There was no way Dick could sneak Jason over to the lab without the man noticing. Dick fidgeted with the car keys in his hand as he made his way over to the computer, Jason trailing behind him warily.

"Hey, B." 

Here, right next to the man himself, Dick could see the way the blue light of the monitors reflected onto Bruce's bare face. He had pushed his cowl off, but the cape still hung onto his form, pooling around the chair and onto the floor. He grunted, his eyes never leaving the monitors, but Dick knew he was listening. He probably heard their twin set of footsteps, though he didn't seem to have noticed Jason's presence, yet. 

Well, time to rip that band-aid off now. 

"Do you have a minute...?"

Dick trailed off when the shadows at their feet shifted. Fabric rustled. Two jet-black tendrils rose from the silhouette of Bruce's cape, slithering and gleaming in the blue light, like eels. Dick looked at Bruce's cowl again. There was movement where the cape began, coiling and writhing beneath the fabric in a familiar manner.

Bruce didn't have those, last week.

Car keys slipped out of Dick's grasp, hitting the floor with a clatter. The sound jolted him out of his terrified stupor. He saw in heightened detail as Bruce began to turn his head around. Dick turned tail and ran.

*

Dick stalked down the hallways of the Manor. He'd ran all the way up the stairs, out the hidden door behind the grandfather clock, and up the second floor of the Manor before he realised that neither Jason nor Bruce had followed him. Then he'd slowed to a brisk walking pace, trying to calm his heart with a few steadying breaths. He'd been so worried about breaking the news to Bruce, when it turned out to be the _least_ of his problems. 

As far as he knew, no one in the family apart from him and Jason had ever come into contact with the creature that gave Jason his extra appendages. So what gave Bruce his set of tentacles?

God, it was hard to treat this like any other investigation. Dick blew out a breath, the sound of it echoing in the hallway. It was eerily quiet, most of the house's occupants either still out on patrol or already retired to their respective bedrooms for the night. All that remained were Dick, the portraits on the walls, and the oppressive gazes of the painted figures within. Dick suppressed a shudder, extinguished the unease creeping on the edges of his mind, and pulled himself together. Now was not the time to panic. Something was seriously wrong with Bruce, and he and Jason _both_ needed his help. 

But first, he needed more intel.

He reached Tim's bedroom shortly. Two quick knocks on the door, and the teenager welcomed him in. 

Dick pushed the door open gently. It was dark inside the room, most of the lights turned off, though the reason quickly became apparent as the sounds of Resident Evil's pause menu drifted over across the room. Tim was sitting in front of his console, controller in his hands, pale face almost glowing in the light of the TV. His eyes lighted up when he spotted Dick.

"Oh hey! You're back early. Quiet night?"

Dick smiled. He loved the kid. He needed to spend more time with him, too. Maybe they could even play this game together, so Tim wouldn't have to play it all by himself. Dick made a silent promise to himself. After this case, he would drop by more often.

"Not exactly. Listen, I'm sorry to interrupt your night, but I need your help." 

"Oh. What's up?" Tim seemed to have noticed that Dick was still in his uniform, and it was like a switch had been flipped. Immediately, he set the controller down, scooting away from the TV to face Dick properly. He patted at the spot next to him.

"Well," Dick began as he meandered over - and froze. There, on the wall behind Tim, were shadows that didn't belong. Thin, writhing, snake-like shadows. Dick glanced at the TV monitor. The game was on 2-player mode. The other controller was in use.

Tim wasn't playing solo.

"Well?" Tim prompted, still looking at him expectantly. Tentacles gathered behind him, and the other controller came into view, grasped securely between two tentacles. They were a dark crimson colour, lurid and reminiscent of blood wounds.

Dick's stomach lurched. He was going to be sick.

"Actually, I uh, I think I'll handle this one myself," he managed as he backed away out of the room. "You... You enjoy your game, now..."

The door had barely swung shut behind him before Dick broke off into a sprint. First Bruce, now Timmy too? God! He could feel a scream building at the back of his throat. But he pushed on. He knew who was compromised, and that was all the more reason to locate the others. He needed to make sure they knew what was going on. Damian would follow his lead. The Birds of Prey would help. They could still save Bruce. And Tim. And Jason.

That list was starting to get a bit too long. 

He choked back hysterical laughter at the thought. He willed himself not to lose it as he headed for Damian's room. 

Damian should be in bed at this hour, but the sleep schedule of a nighttime vigilante made it hard for the youngest Robin to go to bed on his nights off. Some nights, Dick would walk into the attached servant room - which had since been converted into an art studio for Damian - and he'd find the young boy tinkering with a project or another.

Sure enough, when Dick reached Damian's room, he found the doors to the studio left slightly ajar. Warm yellow light spilled out into the hall in a thin line.

Dick leaned his head against the door, allowing the cooling sensation of hardwood on skin to centre his thoughts. Then, he knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Dick held his breath, bracing himself for the worst, and then immediately felt guilty for even thinking that Damian could be compromised. And as he walked into the room, he realised his worries were all for naught. Damian stood before his easel, almost serene the way he only ever seemed to be when he was in his element. And though he looked a bit more guarded at the arrival of a visitor, he relaxed immediately when he recognised Dick. 

"Good evening, Grayson," he greeted, and turned his attention back towards the canvas to finish the brushstroke Dick had interrupted. Dick watched him paint for a short moment, the little furrow between his brows as he controlled his paintbrush with practiced precision, the stillness and surety with which he balanced the mixing palette.

He looked _so normal_. Dick let out a huge sigh of relief that sounded too much like a sob. 

Damian noticed, of course. "Is something the matter?" He lowered his paintbrush once more and gave Dick his full attention, standing up straighter like he was reporting for duty.

Dick smiled shakily as he walked over to the boy. "I'm just glad to see you, Dami." He ruffled Damian's hair, smoothing out the tangles caught on his fingers, and committed the feeling of it to memory all over again.

Damian wrinkled his nose, but allowed it, perhaps sensing how distraught Dick was. "What's going on, Grayson?"

Dick chose his words carefully as he continued to card his fingers through Damian's hair, a soothing motion more to soothe himself than the boy. "There's not much time. We need to move now. Can you clean up? I'll explain on the way."

Damian frowned, but agreed nonetheless. Dick stepped back, and hoped the smile on his face passed for encouraging. He watched as Damian turned around to set the palette and the paintbrush down onto the workbench. "Should I bring the suit?" He asked, voice muffled as he divested himself of his paint-splattered smock.

Dick thought about sneaking back down to the Cave, where Bruce and Jason awaited with their tentacles, and nearly shuddered. "It's fine. We'll stop by the Penthouse. Besides, I-"

Damian turned around, and the rest of the sentence died in Dick's mouth.

It must have been obscured by the angle before, but now Dick could see in all their glory, the tentacles that sprouted out from the left arm of the smock. They shrank away from the palette on the table and retracted into the sleeve. It hadn't been Damian's steady hand holding the palette. It had been the tentacles.

His real left hand was peeking out from beneath the hem of the smock, grabbing at the sleeve to free it from the tentacles. He struggled, clearly unused to wearing the garment with a few limbs too many. More tentacles peeked out from beneath the smock, and Dick noted faintly that most of them were sporting splotches of paint. They must have all held the mixing palette or a paintbrush at some point.

His tentacles were ambidextrous.

Somehow, that realisation proved to be the final straw. Dick screamed. He screamed and screamed, the sound echoing through the hallways, following him down and out the front doors until he hopped onto the first bike on the driveway, and tore off into the night.

*

*

*

Barbara stretched her arms until she heard the satisfying pop in her spine. Then she gathered the mug of coffee next to the computer keyboard and took a sip. 

"Any updates on the situation?" She asked the face on her computer screen. Engaged in a video call with her was Cass. She, too, was dressed casually, like she was about to turn in for the night. She hovered over her phone camera, the angle awkward as she tried to rinse off the facial scrub on her forehead while keeping Barbara in her sights at the same time.

"Wait, hold on." A pop-up window appeared on Barbara's screen. It flashed with an image of Nightwing's emblem. She snorted. "It's Dick."

Cass nodded with a meaningful look, and Barbara rolled her eyes. Dick did have a knack for using the comm channels for social calls. She barely got a word in once she switched the call to Dick's channel, however.

"Babs, you gotta help me!" Dick sounded panicked, breathless.

Barbara frowned. "Whoa, slow down. What's going on?"

"I got an emergency situation- and no, we _cannot_ engage B." 

Barbara opened her mouth.

"No, we _can't_ engage the Robins, either. I need _you_." The desperation in Dick's voice made Barbara acquiesce. "Can I come over?"

Barbara checked the GPS signal on his comm-link. He was speeding down Sprang Bridge back into city centre from the direction of the Manor. At this hour? Her frown deepened.

"Sure. See you soon."

She hadn't wiped her frown away when she put Cass's channel back on. 

"What's wrong with Dick?" Cass queried. She was now wrangling her hair, having finished her facial routine during Dick's brief phone call. She combed through the strands with one hand, and in the other, picked up her trimming scissors from the bathroom counter.

Barbara shrugged. "Don't know. But we have twenty more minutes. You were saying?"

Cass paused, pursing her lips. She hated being a bearer of bad news. She could never find the right way to phrase it. 

"Lazarus exposure seems to be the cause. So far, no cure."

Sighing, she snipped off a jet-black tendril that looked just a bit too wriggly to be hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Shout out to [Kiseia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiseia) for the last-minute beta, and [meaninglessblah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/pseuds/meaninglessblah) for showing me that you can use CSS coding to format little bits and bobs like text message screenshots. I used [this guide](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722) for the formatting.
> 
> As for the little easter eggs I included:  
> \- Jason's burner phone number spells OCTOPUS.  
> \- The coordinates he sends Dick is for [this bar & restaurant in NYC called the Lovecraft](https://goo.gl/maps/ho419TDTs5BWrPjo7).  
> \- I originally had Tim play some fun co-op game like Donkey Kong, but I settled on Resident Evil in the end for the irony.
> 
> You can find me on [Tumblr](https://stvlti.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
